


never enough time

by roymustangs_slightlydecrepit_fiat500



Category: Arc of a Scythe Series - Neal Shusterman
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon LGBTQ Character, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Genderfluid Character, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Major Illness, Other, Post-Canon, Probably ooc, The Toll (Arc of Scythe), but used as little as possible as jeri says that pronouns are stupid, oh boy, they/them pronouns for jerico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roymustangs_slightlydecrepit_fiat500/pseuds/roymustangs_slightlydecrepit_fiat500
Summary: Because of staying on Earth, it was inevitable that Jerico or Greyson would have to succumb to illness eventually, wasn't it?Even if their life seems like paradise together?
Relationships: Jerico Soberanis/Greyson Tolliver
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	never enough time

**Author's Note:**

> my first work in the scythe fandom! I finished reading The Toll the other day, I read all the books in a week bc I was so hooked on them
> 
> I LOVE Jerico Soberanis and their relationship with Greyson was just *chefs kiss*  
> so of course I had to go and kill one of them :D
> 
> apologies in advance

The illness comes in increments, small symptoms pervading through Greyson over a period of time. He began coughing randomly, small chest pains that he brushed off as faulty pain nanites or stress, small yet persistent traits that only grew more prevalent. In the mortal age (well, this was another mortal age, wasn’t it?), Greyson may have seen these as symptoms of pneumonia, perhaps, or another disease, but never now. Except now he had every reason to see it as such. The gravity of the situation settled on him like the weight of the world, the knowledge that his death was coming in less time than he would have liked. Greyson Tolliver was dying, whether he wanted it or not.

And he was fine with that. Well, he wouldn’t describe his feelings as particularly overjoyed per se, yet he was strangely unperturbed by his now inevitable death. However, he couldn’t exactly say the same about Jerico.

He broke the news one evening, resting his head in his hands out of sheer guilt and stress. His head pounded, perhaps from the overwhelming sense of finality and perhaps from the sickness. Greyson looked over to Jerico, watching their face crumple, eyes widening in shock and disbelief, before finally contorting into an expression of dull acceptance and resignation. Greyson felt a wave of emotion rise up in his throat, grief coursing through his veins as he slumped onto the table with the overarching, numbing realisation that he simply _didn’t want to die_.

80 years with Jeri, yet still remaining physically in their early 20s, and that would never be enough time for Greyson. Never enough time in the world to make up for the time that one of them would inevitably have to spend alone after the other succumbed to the ’10 great plagues’ as they were called, never enough time to make up for everything they endured together.

At first, Jeri was furious, in denial that _Greyson_ of all people would have to die after such a short time? It was like the world had to screw with them just one more time, taking the one thing Jeri loved as a last-ditch middle finger to everything that they’d lost. Because goddammit if Earth didn’t have one final trick up its godforsaken sleeve. At this point, Jeri would run in front of a scythe for Greyson, or take his disease to ease his suffering and pain. The love that Jeri felt for him on a daily basis became practically painful when faced with inevitable death.

Why? Why did this goddamned illness have to strike the planet, through some twisted failsafe from the Founding Scythes? Why did Greyson of all people have to be struck down so quickly?

But there was nothing Jerico could do. Nothing except wait for the inevitable sympathy gleaning.

The scythe came a week later.

‘One day,’ they said, ‘one day to settle your affairs, to do anything you need to do.’ The merciful scythe looked at Jerico, whose eyes brimmed with the unfamiliar burn of tears. ‘One day to say goodbye to anyone you need or want to. I’ll return here tomorrow, and I promise you will feel no pain.’ Greyson looked at the scythe with understanding in his eyes, nodding silently as he gripped Jeri’s hand a little tighter.

‘Thank you, Scythe Lauper. That is all I need,’ Greyson’s voice rose from the seat where he was sitting.

‘I learned from one of the most influential scythes of my time. I’m sure that you in particular know who I mean.’

Arrangements were made, messages were sent, and then there was nothing more to do than stay alive for the final hours of Greyson’s existence. For once, he had no regrets, nothing he wished he had done in his lifetime ( _never enough, never_ ), only wanting to see the sunset with Jerico for one final time.

They walked on the beach, feeling the sand against their feet, and contemplated. Greyson felt the wind on his face, and Jeri’s hand in his. Despite the dull ache in his chest, the love he feels for Jeri filled his heart, and he bit his lip at the sheer adoration he felt for them. God, if the last thing he thought of in his life was Jerico, he’d be satisfied. He stared into the ocean, the sun’s dying rays creating ripples of golden light on the waves, and felt a strange sense of joy, a feeling of completion and peace with the world ( _not enough time, never enough time_ ). Without warning, Jeri spoke.

‘It’s pretty awful, isn’t it. It’s so goddamned awful I don’t want to believe it.’

There wasn’t really anything that Greyson could add to that sentiment, so he simply nodded, squeezing Jeri’s hand. Yet when he looked up, he could see that their expression was dark and pained. Greyson’s chest tightened and he began to feel another coughing fit coming on, his head pounding as his vision blurred.

One moment they stood in the surf, hand in hand, the next Jerico heard a small cry of pain as Greyson collapsed, his eyes fluttering in and out of focus. Jeri bent down in less than an instant, holding Greyson up as their eyes widened in shock (god, he was too _warm,_ he was burning up completely). Biting their lip, Jeri muttered, considering the potential options before they tightened their grip around his shoulders and lifted him, carrying the broken, shallowly-breathing form of Greyson back to shelter with the urgency of a drowning being trying to keep its head above water.

_Drowning, darkness, reaching towards light-_

_Voices, voices around me from all directions-_

_Where am I-_

_I can’t die just yet. Give me a few more hours, please, let me at least die on schedule, let me say goodbye to Jeri-_

_Jerico-_

_I can hear Jerico-_

Greyson’s eyes blearily opened as he fought off the haze of unconsciousness. Horror sunk into his veins as he recalled collapsing into the surf, feeling weaker than any other instance of his developing illness. His throat burned, yet he still choked out his words.

‘I’m sorry.’

Jerico looked over to him, seeming to snap out of a troubled reverie and their voice breaking from stress.

‘Oh god, Greyson, Grey, you’re here, you’re alright, why are you sorry? Please don’t be sorry, please don’t hate yourself, please… What do you have to apologise for?’

‘I kind of screwed up our last evening together, I guess.’

‘Don’t say that, Greyson, it’s not our last…’ Jeri trailed off, holding Greyson’s weak form to theirs as if their life depended on it.

‘But it sort of is,’

‘Yeah, I can’t lie to myself, it is. But please, don’t think you ruined it. None of this is your fault. Oh god, none of this is your goddamned fault, why does the world have to do this to you?’

‘Hey, it had to happen eventually, you know? It’s sort of clichè but a whole lot more better stuff happened to us than worse. Damn, I’m making no sense.’ He paused, his chest convulsing with coughing and his voice low and raspy. Greyson reached to brush a strand of hair out of Jerico’s face, stroking their cheek with his hand. He spoke again, a note of humour in his broken voice.

‘What happened to you, Jeri? I remember when I met you and you were so cocky and headstrong, and downright insufferable. Ha, I guess I fell for that anyway. Ever since I got this bloody disease you’ve been acting all romantic. Where was that before, huh? But seriously? Where did that Jerico go, and what happened to them?’

Jerico paused, and considered.

‘You happened to me, Greyson.’

‘Well, I love either version of you.’

The next day, they sat awaiting the scythe’s arrival, whispering affirmations and words of affection to each other, when they heard a knock at the door.

‘This is it, I guess.’

Scythe Lauper was affable and friendly, engaging in conversation in a way that was particularly jarring for the situation. She made small talk and offered them tea, but it became clear that this approach was merely delaying the inevitable. She sighed and gestured for them to sit down opposite her.

‘Greyson Tolliver, you have been selected for gleaning on account of your illness. If I could ask your companion to leave the room, that would ease the process.’ Jerico tensed up.

‘No, please let me stay. I have to be with him. Please.’

‘I apologise, but-’ She was cut off by Greyson’s voice, strangely calm and resigned at the end of his life yet hoarse from coughing ( _never enough time, running out of time_ ).

‘Please, if you would allow me one last easement, I would be sincerely grateful. Please let them stay with me, Your Honour.’

The scythe sighed and nodded, smiling sadly at them.

‘Alright. I have chosen to glean you through the form of a blade. It will be painless and quick, and although I cannot grant your partner the immunity that would traditionally be granted, the sentiment remains. I intend to ease you of the suffering from the death that your ailment would cause.’ Greyson nodded.

‘I understand, Your Honour. Thank you.’

‘On the contrary, it is an honour to glean you, Mr Tolliver. You have contributed to the world in innumerable ways, and your life was full of achievements. I sincerely hope you feel the same way about your life.’

Greyson’s voice was practically inaudible.

‘I do’

At that moment, Jerico knew, more certain than anything else, that they had to speak. Jeri had to say something to Greyson, to tell him something that conveyed the emotions they had for him. Instead they merely opted to say one thing.

‘Your life, Greyson, was so profound that it changed mine.’

They linked their hands together, like they had on the atoll all those decades ago, feeling each others’ pulses for the final time. They murmured words of love to each other, farewells punctuated with the occasional choked sob escaping Jerico’s throat. They continued affirming their love to each other as Scythe Lauper silently slid the blade into Greyson’s ribcage, ending his life in less than a second.

Jerico felt his pulse coming to a halt beneath their fingertips, and it felt as if their pulse had stopped simultaneously, so overwhelming and all-consuming was the grief that took over their brain. Greyson was gleaned, Jerico’s only true love was gone, and there was nothing in the future but years of grief and pining until they succumbed to illness and could finally reunite with him. Nothing left, never enough time with Greyson.

If Jerico knew that the last thing heard by Greyson as the knife slid into his heart was ‘I love you’, that would be a slight solace, an anchor in the thrashing waves of sorrow and heartache. Yet how would they have ever known this?

Because Greyson Tolliver was dead, gleaned out of sympathy, and there was no way to love him again.

_Never enough, never enough time with him._

**Author's Note:**

> I am so fucking sorry
> 
> why did I write this?  
> I hope you enjoyed this (enjoyed is probably not the correct word tbh but like still)
> 
> please kudos and comment if you liked it!! <3


End file.
